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2014.05.12 - From the Ashes
The amber sunlight set slowly as the dying sun vanished much earlier than elsewhere at the zenith of the canyon walls. The keeper, somber fellow that he was with 9 day stubble and the ceremonial bath/mage robe drawn over his frail formed looked at Kilroy. "You know, I must admit I'm surprised to see you a second time lad." Kilroy shrugged, "I still need passage." "We give out only two tokens a year to the various magi and beings who apply for our services, and we knew of your grandfather. We gave him a single token as well and yet, here you are." "Yup. Here I am." "They're potent magical talismans..." Kilroy nodded appreciatively. "But they CAN be traded." There was no reply from Kilroy. "So how exactly did you get this one?" "I paid for it." The gatekeeper's eyes narrowed, "And from whom did you buy it?" "I'm not at liberty to disclose that information." Which was true. Kilroy kept his contact's confidentiality quite close. "You didn't just..." he waggled his fingers. With a sigh, Kilroy put the token in the guardian's hand. Then he put another, and another and another. "I'll be honest sir...I could do this all day. You have no way of knowing if I did or I didn't. My grandfather was an honest man. I bought this, I didn't make it." The guardian let the other tokens besides the first drop to the ground distastefully. Looking at the token skepticly, he grunted, "Your father was a snake." "I am not my father." "No...no, you're not." With a grunt, the Guardian moved to the touch stone and opened the portal. A flush of arcane energy slewed through the canyon, rushing as an invisible river through the adobe eye that swirled and winked, eventually showing a white garden on the other side. "Only one other person has ever gone to this realm and survived..." "I know." Kilroy smiled...and stepped through. ................................................................................................. Ascot Conneticut was about as happy as a pig in bacon, which was to say...not at all. The research he had done about the nature of the afterlife had been...extensive. He'd made as many arrangements and contingencies and consultations as anyone in his considerable position could have conceived. He had deliberately switched his 'worship' to the greek pantheon for this possibility, no mean feat considering he was a priest of a God from a totally different area...but it had worked. He was in Hades. And as a shade, as he thought, he still had access to his magic. His divinations and information had been correct. There was only one little problem.... The dead had no economy. None beyond giving coins to Charon. The idea had been to give Charon sufficient coins to return immediately...or failing that take his coins as blackmail. In theory, it would work. There was only one problem. The coins that Charon took were protected a little, not a lot, but just enough that would normally take some extra oomph to affect them...and while he had his magic, without a body, his strength was somewhat reduced. And with no other economy than the single coins turned by single individuals to the one ferryman.... The latent economic magic here was...thin....to say the least. He looked around at the thousands...millions of lost souls, just sitting here, forlornly looking at the other side of the river...though, from what he recalled, for a lot of them it wouldn't be that much better. It was, quite frankly, boring as hell. Hell. He laughed at that. Mammon would have put him back. They had a good working relationship. He'd even had a backup contract in case somehow monotheism got him. But this was ...so...boring. But that wasn't the worst part. No, the worst part was that he'd been killed like some two bit thug. Who did they think he was? Some idiot who dressed up like a clown and robbed banks? Maybe some idiot who flew around in a flying saucer and threatened to destroy the city if they didn't give him one gabbilion quatloons? No no. The people who put him here were going to pay. Oh yes, they most definitely would. And then he smiled...he had an idea....and it would work. He knew it would. ................................................................................................. And suddenly Kilroy was wearing a white suit and white tie. The trees and fruit thereof were white, as was the white sun and marble steps, the stain glass windows portraying various heavenly scenes on the great and spacious building with large golden spires that went heaven ward for what seemed like miles. Various tubes moved in a series beneath the building, floating on clouds, that fed and endless series of more tubes of messages that went in and out. "'s not Heaven..." a voice came behind him. Kilroy looked behind him and a tiny cherub winked and floated around his head, it's pudgy body impossibly supported by tiny feathered wings. "Um...it's not?" "Nope. Providence didn't want to set up there. He takes Heaven's garbage work. The 8th archangel, they call him." "I thought there were only seven...." Not that he was a master of monotheist theology...or any other theology for that matter. "There are, but there are still things that aren't really...you know their cup of tea. After all, if every prayer is answers, who wants to be the one to answer the prayer for a bike? Providence used to be ...well...kind of minor, but he's kept doing more and more that other people don't want...and just...gotten more powerful." "And you're telling me this because?" "Because we know who you are Kilroy. I didn't want you to think that everyone up here was like this." Kilroy looked at the fat little angle for a few moments and then shrugged, "I didn't know what to think." "I can read your mind Kilroy. I know better. You don't have much use for a God that allows such things to happen." "Not really, no. The Economy is dumb but powerful. That's his excuse. What's yours?" "It's complicated." "I'm sure it is. Look, I'm really not here to have this discussion. I just want my evidence back." "I know." "I'm glad you know. Who are you again?" "You can call me Beat, which is short for-" "Nice to meet you Beat." Kilroy waved and began to walk inside of the building. ................................................................................................. Ascot nodded at the other four gentlemen he'd selected, "That's right. It's a game. Aren't you tired of being bored?" A bearded man, who called himself Isosceles, put his hand behind his head, "So...we...share ...memories..and stories...." "Yes..." Ascot smiled, they were getting it. They were finally getting it. "And...whoever tells the best story or the best memory....gets...this ball of mud..." "It's just a point silly." Ascot didn't have much to work with here, but a river and dirt made mud. It was currency. It would do. "So...yeah. I'll go first..." Success! ................................................................................................. Kilroy was smart. He really was. But form 54 B mixed into exception of Form 29 F didn't make sense to require reality form 29-3. He'd spent...what was it...two days? Three? And there was no food here, why did there have to be? None of Providence's conscripted servants ate. They just sat around in their white suits and took care of their little particular sub domain in Providence's incredibly complicated machine. He was getting nowhere. And Beat was of no help whatsoever. In the end, Kilroy had to retreat back through the portal. As he walked down the steps of the building, Kilroy shouted back behind his shoulder, "This isn't over Providence. You think you've won, but it's not over by a long shot." A voice from nowhere chuckled, "You're welcome to come back any time Mortal. My system is perfect, and unassailable. Fool." Kilroy left. But Kilroy had not been alone. The small Cherub was witness. Providence was guilty of extreme pride... And so punishment was mete, even if only for a little while....and an angel fell to earth...a very powerful...very annoyed angel. Category:Log